The Hallucinatory Duke

by Meta Mathews

  Rain finally arrived this morning and has remained steady all day. The farmers will be pleased.

  Amelia was about to doze off in her computer chair when an entry shocked her out of her stupor.

  Amy, who insists that I not call her Duchess, came for a visit. She is devastated to think that the babe might be declared illegitimate and the duke left without an heir. These past two years have been difficult for her. I hope she can cope with this new disaster.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” she informed Wellington, who had been sleeping on the desk next to the keyboard. He opened one eye, then closed it again.

  Amelia quickly flipped the page and stared in horror. Ragged edges near the diary’s gutter indicated that several pages had been ripped out. “What the…?”

  She sighed, leant back in her chair, then jumped straight up when the chiming of the doorbell startled her.

  Frowning, she glanced at the clock and moaned. Seven-oh-five. Jack had no doubt arrived with dinner and she hadn’t so much as run a comb through her hair or brushed her teeth since lunch.

  She cupped a hand over her mouth and nose and blew her breath out, hoping to confirm that she didn’t have pecan-pie breath, but she had to admit that she really couldn’t tell.

  “Just a minute,” she yelled towards the door, while making a mad dash to the bathroom. A quick gargle with mouthwash and a spritz of perfume had to suffice for her freshening up. Another dash to the door, and she paused, forcing what she hoped was a placid smile, then looked through the peephole.

  Jack was glaring at her. She quickly turned the lock and opened the door. He clutched three takeout bags from a Chinese restaurant. A black case—probably holding a laptop—hung from a strap on his shoulder.

  He had changed into casual clothes. Faded jeans so worn and soft that they appeared moulded to his long, muscular legs were paired with a short-sleeved T-shirt from an Aerosmith concert. There was no way that the duke—with his cutaway coats and embroidered waistcoats and diamond stickpins—had ever looked this sexy.

  Amelia was struck again with that nettlesome sense that she had known—perhaps even loved—Jack at some point in the past. “Déjà vu all over again,” she muttered, thoroughly irritated with herself.

  “Did you say something?” Jack regarded her with a frown.

  Amelia gave herself a mental shake. “Nothing important.” She quickly relieved him of two of the bags and stepped back. “Come in. Sorry to keep you waiting. I’ve been working all afternoon on that Comstock woman’s diary, and I just got an unpleasant shock.”

  She carried the bags to the counter that separated the kitchen from the living area and motioned for Jack to follow. “You didn’t call, so I guess you had no trouble finding my place.”

  “Oh, I called. Several times as a matter of fact. I wasn’t sure whether to get pizza or Chinese and I wanted to ask your preference. My calls kept getting dropped, so I just took a chance on Chinese.”

  “The calls got dropped?” Amelia frowned. “That’s strange. The signal here is usually great. Where were you calling from?”

  “Just about three blocks away.”

  Amelia shivered. “This is a little creepy. I wonder if the duke was interfering with the calls. Maybe he didn’t want you coming here.”

  “You’ve been working at the computer too long.” Jack’s elevated eyebrows suggested he found Amelia’s fears to be rather far-fetched. “Calls are dropped on a regular basis all over the world. Don’t read too much into it.”

  “I suppose that’s true. In any case, you guessed right about the food because I love Chinese.” She pulled a couple of cartons out of the bags. “I’ll warm these. Make yourself comfortable. You can set your laptop up next to mine on the desk over there if you want.”

  “No rush.” He set his case down beside the sofa. “What’s this unpleasant shock you said you experienced?”

  “Before we get into that, perhaps we should eat and then compare notes. I didn’t know you existed until today. Why hasn’t Ben mentioned you?”

  “You’d have to ask him. He told me about you, but he only referred to you as ‘his researcher’. I thought you were a man, until he asked me to meet with you and then told me your name.”

  Amelia took the sesame chicken out of the microwave and stuck the pepper steak in. “So how long have you been researching for Ben?” she asked.

  “Not long. He kept trying to get me involved in this duke business, but I kept blowing him off. It simply didn’t interest me. But now…” His voice trailed off.

  “Now what?”

  He shrugged. “Now I’m curious as to why I’m having these strange encounters with a woman from the past who looks somewhat like you. Except for the hair, of course, and I assume you’re not a natural blonde.”

  Amelia decided to ignore that pointed remark. “The food’s hot. I’ve got tea, diet colas and beer. Do you have a preference?”

  “Beer’s good.”

  They settled down at the table and ate in silence for a few minutes. Jack was the first to speak. “Are you familiar with the Hardwicke Marriage Act of 1754?”

  “Of course I’m familiar with the Hardwicke Act. I majored in European history after all.”

  “Well, I didn’t, so how about explaining it to me. It’s something Uncle Ben keeps harping on about.”

  Amy took a sip of her diet cola, then cleared her throat. “The Hardwicke Act was intended to end irregular or clandestine marriages, which was a custom that had led to a lawsuit that had to be settled in the House of Lords. But, like most laws, while this one solved some problems, it created others. One of its most troublesome paragraphs stated that a marriage was null and void if one of the couple was a minor, marrying by licence without proper permission of the father or legal guardian.”

  “And what does that have to do with the Duke of Durbane?” Jack demanded.

  “I’m getting to that, but it’s complicated. Suffice it to say that even though the duke and Amy had been legally married, their offspring could have been declared illegitimate.”

  “That makes no sense.”

  “I know. I can explain the intricacies of the Act, but really, we should do a timeline of some sort so we’re both coming from the same place.”

  Jack shrugged. “If you say so. But most of what I know comes from Uncle Ben’s research. And frankly, unlike him, I’m not that interested in proving we’re legitimate descendants of the duke. At this point, I mostly want to understand why that female is visiting me.”

  Amelia pushed her plate to one side and rested her elbows on the table. “So…you want to tell me about your visits from her?” She struggled to hide a smile while watching a blush creep upwards from Jack’s neck to suffuse first his cheeks, then his forehead, just as she remembered seeing him blush in the past.

  Damn. Where had that last thought come from? She bit her lip and forced herself to pay attention to Jack’s answer.

  “No, I really don’t want to talk about my experiences with that woman. Do you want to tell me about your visits?”

  “I’m almost positive my uninvited guest is the duke. He looks just like the portraits I’ve seen. And I’m wondering if your visitor could be his wife, since all of our research has centred around those two.”

  “That would make sense, yeah.” He shot her an evil grin. “So, are you going to share details about what happens when the duke comes calling on you?”

  She bared her teeth at him. “Let’s just agree that each of us is sexually pleasured without being an active participant. Is that fair?”

  “Something like that.” His face turned a shade darker red. “I liked it, but I also hated it, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, I know. Frankly, the duke seems to think I’m a courtesan and treats me accordingly.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re telling me that this figment of your imagination—or whatever he is—actually believes you’re a hooker?”

  Amelia stiffened. “Hooker is a harsh word and
not one that the duke would use. But yes, he appears to think I’m in the habit of using sex for my own purposes. Also, he mentioned having had a mistress, so I think we can safely assume he is accustomed to dealing with paramours.”

  “This just gets weirder and weirder.” Jack drained his beer and pushed back from the table. He stood and started pacing the small confines of Amelia’s apartment. “We need to do something before this situation gets even more bizarre. Do you have any ideas?”

  “Just one, but I’m afraid you’ll think I’m crazier than ever.”

  He stopped in mid-pace and stared. “If you have any sort of idea at all regarding this situation, it’s almost guaranteed to sound crazy. So what’s your solution?”

  Amelia walked across the room and paused in front of him. “We need to have sex.”

  She bit back a smile when she noticed his throat jump as though he’d had to swallow a sudden excess of saliva before he could speak. “You mean us, as in you and me?”

  “Exactly.”

  “When?” he asked quickly.

  “How about this evening?”

  “Hey, I’m not objecting, but what good is that supposed to do, other than the obvious?”

  “I’m not sure, but it seems to me that it’s worth a try. After all, I’m seemingly being visited by the duke and you’re apparently being visited by Amy Pennycut, the woman he married, and their visits centre around sex. It stands to reason—if there’s any reason to be found in this situation—that we’re supposed to have sex with each other.”

  “You know, I’ve never objected in the past when a woman suggested we have sex, but I’m just not sure I can go along this time. What if the duke is here watching?”

  Amelia plopped her hands on her hips. “Oh, you would have to put that scenario in my mind, wouldn’t you?”

  “Hey, you raised that possibility when you thought he might be responsible for the dropped calls earlier this evening. But I’m sure we don’t have anything to worry about.” He tried for a grin, but it looked weak.

  Amelia shook her head. “Forget sex. I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it now, wondering if we were being observed by a voyeur.”

  “Maybe we could go to a motel,” Jack suggested hopefully.

  “No. It was a bad idea. Forget I mentioned it. Anyway, I’m not ordinarily in the habit of having sex with men I’ve just met. This is an unusual circumstance.”

  “Think of it this way. Maybe we really met two hundred years ago.” He wasn’t smiling, and Amelia wondered if he’d experienced some of the same sensations she had, sensations that suggested they weren’t really strangers after all.

  She cocked her head to one side and stared at him for a few seconds. His gaze was just as solemn as hers, but she wasn’t anywhere near ready to explore this particular topic with him. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”

  He shrugged. “Mainly I’m trying to backtrack and figure out some way to take you up on that offer of sex.”

  Amelia finally smiled, but she still shook her head. “Sorry, but like I said, it was a bad idea. Maybe I was thinking of appeasing the duke in some way, but frankly, I’m tired of being jerked around by a hallucination. If he’s all that interested in sex, let him have sex with your hallucination.”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, neither of them seems interested in the other. Unless they’re getting together to compare notes after they make you and me climax. Separately, unfortunately.”

  “Argh! You’re just planting more and more unpleasant pictures in my mind. I think you’d better go now.”

  Jack’s shoulders slumped, then his eyes brightened. “I can’t leave yet. You haven’t explained to me why the Hardwicke Act is so relevant to our situation.”

  “I don’t want to talk about any of this again tonight. Call me tomorrow. In the meantime, try researching the Hardwicke Act online and read up on it yourself.”

  “I’ve done that. It didn’t help all that much, but I’ll try again.” He grabbed the bag containing his laptop. “Look, I’m sorry if the way I reacted to your suggestion upset you. I’m just not accustomed to having visitors from the past, and I know you’re not either. Let’s continue the research and maybe we’ll figure out what’s going on.”

  “Sure,” Amelia responded. She had a hand on his arm, gently herding him towards the door. “We’ll try again tomorrow.”

  “Well, I certainly have renewed motivation to get rid of these damn visitors,” he announced. “Because I’ve got a strong feeling I’m not getting lucky until we do.”

  Amelia laughed. “Getting rid of them might prove lucky in more ways than one.” She opened the door and held it while he stepped outside. “Give me a call tomorrow and we’ll talk about when we can get together.”

  He agreed, said goodnight, and she closed the door and locked it behind him. Somehow, she didn’t think she’d ever felt lonelier than when she turned back around to an empty apartment.

  Chapter Six

  The duke arrived at his usual time, around three-thirty in the morning. Amelia had been asleep for less than two hours although she’d gone to bed early, simply because she couldn’t think of anything else to do.

  She’d tried to continue transcribing the diary after Jack left, but Martha had gone back to writing her usual boring entries and Amelia couldn’t tolerate any more repetitive complaints about the weather or the servants. She then tried calling Julie, who wasn’t answering her cell, which Amelia took to mean that she was out with her new boyfriend. She even tried calling her parents, but she got their answering machine, then remembered it was bingo night at the Club.

  She was so lonely she was tempted to call Jack and ask if he still wanted to know about the Hardwicke Act, but she decided that that was simply too pathetic. There was nothing left to do but go to bed, but then she couldn’t sleep. Her mind insisted on reviewing all of the facts she had been able to garner about her and Jack’s mysterious visitors. She was thinking about the duke when she finally dropped off to sleep.

  She awoke with him stretched out beside her. He was lying on his side, facing her, and had pushed her nightshirt up above her breasts. When she opened her eyes, he started easing his hand down across her stomach towards her pussy.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” she yelped, swinging at his jaw with her left hand. She was right-handed, though, which possibly explained why she missed his jaw and hit his ear.

  “Oh!” He jerked his hand off her belly and slapped it to his ear. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because I’m sick of you molesting me in my sleep, you pervert. Get away from me.”

  “Molesting you? My dear woman, I hasten to point out that you have not raised a single complaint in the last two weeks. Now you accuse me of molesting you. Frankly, I think you should be thanking me.”

  “I’ll thank you to get out of my bed and stay out. Furthermore, I’d like to know exactly who you are and what you’re doing here.”

  He answered in an aggrieved tone. “I would have thought that what I have been doing would have been perfectly obvious. I’ve been servicing you.”

  “Servicing me?” Amelia screeched. Suddenly aware that the duke’s hand again rested on her bare stomach, she slapped his arm away and pulled the sheet up to cover herself. “I don’t need servicing. I just need to know who the hell you are and why you’re really here.”

  His dark eyebrows drew together. “I’ve warned you about your language.”

  “And I’m warning you that if you make my thigh burn again, I’ll…I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do, but it won’t be pretty.”

  He sighed. “Very well. I suppose I don’t really have a right to dictate what words you may or may not use, but I at least have a right to know why you’ve been searching for me.”

  “That’s simple enough. I’m being paid to investigate you.”

  “Paid by whom?” he demanded with narrowed eyes.

  “A man who thinks he may be your descendant.”

  “I hav
e no descendants. And if it’s someone hoping to prove my claim to the dukedom was fraudulent, he is due to be disappointed. The line of descent from the first duke is quite clear, from father to oldest son. Except, of course, in my case. I’m the third son.”

  Amelia nodded and pushed herself up, bringing the sheet with her, then leaned against the headboard. “Yes, I’m aware of the deaths of your father and two older brothers. I also know that following their deaths, you and your cousin Charles were the only living heirs.”

  He looked at her and frowned. “I did not know that you are acquainted with my family.”

  “I’m not. I read about the unfortunate illness that claimed your father and brothers.”

  “Of course. I should have realised that a woman like you wouldn’t really be acquainted with my family. Strangely, you do rather resemble Amy, but she has brown hair rather than blonde and, of course, she’s much more genteel than you.”

  “Oh, really?” Amelia rarely lost her temper, but this damn duke was getting on her last nerve. She pulled a deep breath in through her mouth and blew it out slowly before speaking again. “Listen to me, Duke. I don’t want you bothering me anymore. Will you please refrain from coming here again?”

  “I’m not sure that’s in my power.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Something seems to keep calling me to you. At first I thought it was because you were appearing to me in my dreams, tempting me. But when I come to you, you don’t behave as I would expect a courtesan to behave.”

  “Maybe that’s because I’m not a courtesan,” Amelia said, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling. “I’ve tried to tell you that all along.”

  “Yes, but—What’s that noise?”

  “My doorbell.” Amelia jumped out of bed and dashed to the closet to retrieve a robe. “Good God, it’s going on four o’clock in the morning. If this is Ben, so help me…”

  She glanced back towards the bed only to discover that the duke had disappeared. Both irritated and relieved, she stomped to the front door and stared through the peephole.